


of endings (and beginnings)

by Aimerz



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Bold Midoriya Izuku, First Kiss, Fluff, Gay Panic, Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Romance, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, gods they are so dumb, tsukiyamayachi if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:41:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26714635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aimerz/pseuds/Aimerz
Summary: For just a second it doesn’t matter he’s not the one setting the ball—not the one cheering at his side, because he just got to witness everything he wanted and more, even at the hands of defeat. At the realization of his victory, Hinata breaks in a grin so wide and bright he could give the sun a run for its money, and if Kageyama feels a flutter of something pooling in his stomach, he attributes it to the hunger and the eagerness and the desire for more. Volleyball, that is.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio
Comments: 9
Kudos: 114





	of endings (and beginnings)

**Author's Note:**

> a lil something i wrote, slightly different from canon, to portray the development of their relationship after the adlers' match
> 
> two dorks in love
> 
> hope you enjoy!

It all goes quiet for a second—and then the ball drops with a near silent thud outside the court; angry, red welts dotting the skin on Kageyama’s forearms where it bounced off, too fast and too far for any of his teammates to reach. And when the crowd begins to cry and roar and chant, it is all lost in Kageyama’s ears; the silence replaced by a loud ringing in his ears as his eyes follow Hinata’s figure still suspended in mid-air. The world stops and it’s just _them_ , face to face, the way it was always meant to be. A grin spreads across Kageyama’s features.

The snap of his shoes against the floor brings Kageyama back to reality, but even the cheering of his approaching friends cannot make him pry his gaze from his most formidable opponent; the memory of his final,  _ beautiful _ spike forever etched in his brain. 

How were they ever pulled so far apart? Diverging paths, only to meet back here on the court. A couple of years too many. An eternity. 

He’s almost jealous.  _ Almost _ . Kageyama is reminded of a less fortunate match from a lifetime ago; one that ended almost as soon as it began. One that changed him forever. He remembers the rage he felt at Hinata’s untapped potential, remembers the crown and the cape and the void that once stood between them. However, standing in front of him with a net dividing them once more he feels a surge of pride swelling in his chest at the sight of Hinata’s form towering high above the blockers, his arm coming down to spike the ball so fast Kageyama is barely able to follow the trajectory. 

For just a second it doesn’t matter he’s not the one setting the ball—not the one cheering at his side, because he just got to witness everything he wanted and more, even at the hands of defeat. At the realization of his victory, Hinata breaks in a grin so wide and bright he could give the sun a run for its money, and if Kageyama feels a flutter of  _ something _ pooling in his stomach, he attributes it to the hunger and the eagerness and the desire for more. Volleyball, that is. 

He’s swept away by his bewildered teammates for one final group hug, the usual chatter now a stunned silence. Hoshiumi’s vibrant energy cracks for only a second, a sudden solemn set to his shoulders, and finally it dawns on Kageyama that the Adlers just lost the game. One more win for Hinata, a tick for his tally. He releases a sigh that turns halfway into a smile, and allows himself to relax into the embrace. They turn towards the bleachers and bow deep. The cheerleaders chant one last  _ Adlers! _ and the crowd shifts out of their seats. 

Ushijima puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes. “It was a good game,” he says, passing Kageyama a towel to wipe the sweat and a water bottle. He hums in response, still in awe and trying to process the uncomfortable feeling of something vibrating inside him. “He’s grown up quite a lot. I’d been waiting for the chance to see him soaring that high again.” 

“Man,” Hoshiumi stretches his arms above his head. “Nothing ever beats playing against him.” He punches Kageyama’s arm, lightly, a grin spreading across his features. “How did it feel, playing  _ against _ him?”

Before leaving the court, Kageyama sneaks a final glance towards the other side of the net, where Bokuto is waving his arms and saying something that makes Hinata laugh a boisterous song. Kageyama narrows his eyes and remembers a time in Karasuno High made of late afternoon training sessions and that high pitched laugh of his. Just as he’s about to turn back—perhaps a play of fate—Hinata catches his eye and pauses, sending Bokuto off with a wave of his arm. It is nothing short of an electric current passing through them, standing a whole court apart, and Hinata raises a fist to the ceiling in all of his sunshine dumbass energy. 

Kageyama has to acknowledge the victory. He shakes his head but his lips are smirking, and mimics Hinata’s gesture. “It felt fantastic.” He murmurs, but Hoshiumi isn’t listening anymore. 

_ Someone stronger will come and find you. _

* * *

He goes back to the hotel to take a shower. A sort of humming pulses through his skin, his fingertips still hot and burning, yet his heartbeat is surprisingly steady. Kageyama inhales a deep breath and lets the hot water wash away the sweat clinging to him. In his mind he goes through everything he could have done different; more elaborate sets, adding more of an element of surprise, yet deep down he knows nothing would have made a difference. Today was Hinata’s stage and turn to completely, utterly  _ shine _ . 

He towels off quickly and settles for dark sweats and a simple, black shirt. His phone buzzes from his bed and he finds a string of texts from an excited Yamaguchi inviting him to drinks at a local bar, first years only, in just under thirty minutes. That includes Hinata. He replies with a simple thumbs up emoji, to which Yamaguchi replies with another six messages that roughly translate to  _ can’t wait! _ Kageyama rolls his eyes.

The bar is only a couple of minutes away by foot, and the chilly night breeze makes for a perfect walk companion, so Kageyama fumbles for his airpods and closes the door behind him. It’s only two flights of stairs and two left turns to reach the lobby. He pauses right outside the rotating doors to admire the starless sky; an expanse of navy blue stretching up ahead, when a bustling voice startles him. 

“Ohh!” Hinata shrieks, tackling him from behind and hopping to stand in front of him. He’s wearing jeans and one of his stupid graphic tees. “None other than the king of the court, in the flesh.” And he has the nerve to smile like they’re sharing something. A secret. 

Kageyama’s cheeks dust pink upon hearing the nickname. It had been a while since anyone had last called him that. It brings up memories—and  _ feelings _ —he’d rather not tap into in this particular moment. He keeps his gaze trained ahead, but on the corner of his eyes he catches Hinata pouting, and there’s a tiny, little dimple next to his mouth. 

“You should have seen your face, Kageyama,” Hinata continues. “It was like,  _ bam! Defeat, ahhh! _ ” He waves his arms and does ridiculous gestures to make his point, forcing Kageyama to stare and, dammit, there’s a little smile tugging on his lips. “Should’ve recorded it, to rub it in your face.” 

“Hmm,” He muses, and meets Hinata’s gaze. “I was proud, too. I was so used to setting for you, back in highschool. I’d been waiting for the chance to see you again so close, as my formal enemy,” He says, surprised at how calm it came out. Somewhere in his mind he felt himself trembling, but standing in front of Hinata he felt only a surge of energy, and that something else—the tug he felt back at the court. 

Hinata falls silent, sheepish, rubbing his hand on the back of his head. Kageyama feels like he should say something else. It’s been so long, after all. He opens his mouth to fumble for words he can’t find, but Hinata is busying himself by checking his phone. 

“Ah!” He yelps, shoving the screen in Kageyama’s face. It reads 9:03. “We’re running late! This is your fault, you and your—” Hinata stops mid-sentence, and Kageyama is suddenly aware that his cheeks are also a lovely shade of red. “ _ Speech _ . Like yeah, I get it. I’m awesome, but—”

“What? This is— It’s  _ your _ —” Kageyama sighs and rubs his temples. “Anyways. Let’s get going, then.” 

“Well. Betcha I can get there faster than you” And then he’s dashing away like a little kid in the direction of the bar, turning around once to poke his tongue out at him. 

“Oh my  _ god _ ,” He mutters, his breath coming out in white puffs. Kageyama clenches his fists at his sides as Hinata’s figure turns around a corner. “You’re insane!” 

But he’s running anyways, quick to catch up to his former teammate in just a few seconds, surprised to find the boy grinning wide at him, keeping pace. Suddenly he’s sixteen again, keeping count of how many times Hinata’s beaten him to the gymnasium—he still does, to this day—hoping every morning they’d find another stupid little thing to compete on. The rush of adrenaline is unlike anything he’s ever felt before, not even on the court, and for a split second he can almost  _ grasp _ it; that warm, formless thing that’s been there all along, since the beginning. That’s here  _ now _ , at the culmination of a road they’ve walked together, even apart. His heart is swelling.

  
  


“I,” Hinata wheezes, and Kageyama is sent back to reality, nearly tripping as he’s forced to come to a sudden halt. “ _ Win _ . That makes it 407 to 406.” 

He remembers. The last time they had a run towards the gymnasium was on the day they graduated; a point for Kageyama. He’s breathing hard, hands on his knees, face red and sweating. “You only won because you had an unfair advantage,  _ dumbass _ .” 

“Well that’s because you weren’t paying attention!” The boy breathes out, grinning. “I was  _ totally _ going to spring that on you, Bakayegama.” And he sticks his tongue out again, and that’s all Kageyama needs before he has Hinata by the collar of his shirt, words forming in his mouth, seeking anything in his surroundings to strike another competition, perhaps a wrestling match, when his gaze falls on the exposed strip of skin just below his neck and—

“Um… Guys?” Comes Yamaguchi’s voice, head peeking out just outside the bar. “I heard a ruckus, and assumed it was you. Uh, wanna come in?” 

“Great idea,” Hinata says, and wrings himself away from Kageyama’s grasp with surprising ease. “I’m starving, and Kageyama just made me run  _ all _ the way here!” 

He doesn’t even try to come up with an argument this time, opting to bump his fist against the back of Hinata’s head—not nearly hard enough for it to hurt, of course. A brush of skin against orange curls. 

Yamaguchi motions them inside, already talking about the highlights of the match, the food they’re going to order, and Kageyama is left with the feeling that he just keeps missing opportunities—to do  _ what _ , exactly?

* * *

“Aha,” Tsukishima sneers. “The idiots have arrived” 

Yachi elbows him in the ribs, but it barely does anything than make him smirk wide and unapologetically smug. They’re seated on a booth by the corner, orange light pooling from the lamps and two candles placed on the table. Yamaguchi slides next to Tsukishima and places a kiss on his cheekbone. Yachi’s eyes are scanning the menu next to him, and Kageyama is left with no choice but to sit next to Hinata, much to his increasing dismay. Hinata pays him no mind, sliding to his seat gracefully, already engaged in conversation with Yamaguchi. 

They order a round of beer and fries and dive straight into talking about the match’s highlights. Kageyama adds bits of his opinion here and there, perhaps still a tad disgruntled from the loss and the race, and lets Hinata carry the conversation without much issue. He’s positively shining, and definitely exaggerating some of the details, but Kageyama finds it pleasant nonetheless. He sips from his beer, a little sour for his taste, but he does enjoy the sight of his friends happy and well. 

“I am just so glad we could make it,” Yachi sighs, pouting. “Tadashi almost made us lose the train.” 

“Did  _ not _ !” He replies, takes a sip from his drink, and turns to Tsukishima. Hinata makes a poor attempt to stifle his laughter. “Kei here put the  _ wrong _ direction in the map. Now, we  _ did _ make it in time so let’s just  _ hush _ and keep talking about how amazing they both played.” 

“Ushijima looked the same as ever,” Tsukishima says, shoving a chip inside his mouth. “Stony. Constipated, like he could use some weed.” 

Kageyama nearly loses it, coughing, a little bit of beer dripping from his nose. Hinata has to turn around; something about the word  _ weed _ sets him off into a fit of laughter, which then makes everyone laugh, too. He missed this. Kageyama rolls his eyes, silently agreeing with Tsukishima. 

“Kei!  _ Rude _ ,” Yachi chokes out. She places a strand of loose hair behind her ear and clears her throat. “Anyways. The final set was  _ sooo _ scary. I mean, I know this is your thing but—” She shakes her head. “Huge guys. Scary spikes, but it was awesome.” 

“And that final play!” Yamaguchi says, and downs the rest of his beer. “ _ So _ cool. I honestly didn’t expect Miya to go that way, with everyone watching you and all.” 

“And it was  _ totally _ not rehearsed, like,” Hinata shakes his hands in an explosion-like manner with a toothy grin. “Atsumu is a pretty dope setter, and pretty cool to work with.” 

_ A pretty dope setter _ . Kageyama himself would’ve used similar words to describe the guy, but somehow those words coming out of Hinata’s mouth unsettle him. He wonders, for a second, if it was as exhilarating, as  _ perfect _ as it was being on  _ his  _ side of the net. Wonders if Atsumu ever saw what Kageyama sees in this little ball of energy—unbridled potential, fire, a light so blinding, so soothing, the perfect rival. His hands are clenched at his sides and trembling. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say he was indeed jealous. 

“Kageyama?” Kei waves a hand in front of Kageyama’s face. He has an eyebrow raised and a knowing little smirk in his features. “Something the matter?” 

“Nothing,” He mutters. Hinata is looking at him with an odd expression. “It was an interesting match.”

“Interesting? It was  _ hella _ awesome. Especially since I beat you.” 

“Hmm,” Kageyama narrows his eyes and flicks Hinata’s forehead. “Well next time I’ll be the winner. Simple as that.”

That makes Hinata smile. They order another round of drinks and an extra serving of meat. Soon the conversation shifts into more personal territory; what everyone’s been doing for the past years, job gossip, Miyagi’s awful weather. They talk about Hinata’s and Kageyama’s upcoming matches, interviews and other activities. Kageyama starts to feel the effects of the alcohol slightly muddling his senses, and he’s suddenly aware of how close Hinata is sitting, thighs pressed together. He’s saying something about Bokuto’s weird training habits, gesturing wildly and freely and,  _ oh _ , he thinks, hoping the rush of red to his cheeks can be excused on the alcohol. It clicks, then, if only for a second. Kageyama covers his mouth with the back of his hand and spends the rest of the night trying  _ not _ to stare too intensely, or risk losing his mind. 

Time blurs by. Kageyama stops drinking after his third beer, Hinata as well, but Tsukishima and Yamaguchi keep downing shots like their life depends on it. Yachi sits quietly and tries to pretend they don’t exist, but there’s a soft smile she’s blatantly unable to conceal appearing in her mouth. It’s a perfect night.  _ The _ perfect night. 

“Aah,” Yachi says, stretching her arms. She plays with a now-cold fry in her plate, eyes full of fond light. “I’ve missed this. I’ve missed you guys. When was the last time we ever got to do something like this? Just us?” 

“Before Brazil,” Kageyama mutters, too fast and too soon. They all stop talking to look at him, puzzled. He sighs. “Before Hinata went to Brazil, remember?”

“Yeah,” Hinata murmurs. “Before Brazil, huh?”

Before they parted ways. Inevitably, of course. Different paths they both needed to walk alone before converging again, but this time Kageyama feels the weight of those years on top of everything that was left unsaid that night, and the nights and days before. He remembers, then, how he’d been so close to unearthing those deeply buried feelings—and  _ didn’t.  _ What had Hinata been doing that night? They’d all been shitfaced and singing dumb Christmas songs for some reason.

“Oh!” Tsukishima snickers, clapping his hands together. “I remember now. Such a wild night. Didn’t we dare Yachi to flirt her way into free drinks for us?”

“ _ Yes you did _ ,” Yachi says. Her face is beet-red, but she doesn’t look angry at all. “And I  _ did _ it. Free tequila shots. The cute barista left her number in a napkin but I forgot to take it home.” 

“What? How come I don’t remember this?”

“Because you were passed out cold, Tadashi,” Tsukishima says. “Even missed the best part of the night.” And he sets his gaze on Kageyama for just a split second before sliding his eyes to Hinata and  _ smirking _ . “The idiots at their peak of obliviousness.” 

Kageyama sneers and looks away, arms crossed, appalled, and Yachi can’t help but giggle even though she’s trying her hardest not to. Hinata, surprisingly, remains quiet and still, gaze fixed somewhere outside the window, orange curls in his forehead, and Kageyama itches to sweep them away with his fingers.  _ What do they mean with oblivious? _

“Then why didn’t you wake me up?” He pouts. “We even had a  _ bet _ going—”

“Tadashi—”

“Now, now,” She hushes, still laughing. She motions a waitress over and asks for the check, and turns to peck the blonde on his cheek. “Don’t tease them too hard. They’re big boys now and can sort it out on their own,” She gives Kageyama a pointed stare. “We best get going now. Tadashi and I have an early train to catch and Kei, here, is reuniting with the boy band.” 

That catches Hinata’s attention. 

“Boy band?” He raises an eyebrow, curious. “Since when are you in a boyband? Man, that’s so cool.” 

“Ugh, I’m  _ not _ ,” Tsukishima clarifies. Yamaguchi sits clutching his stomach trying to stop the laughing fit. “It’s just Bokuto, Kuroo and Akaashi. I’m staying for the afternoon, then I’m off to Miyagi again.” 

“Boy band,” Yachi says. “So, it was so nice to see you all again. We should repeat this soon!”

“I’d like to be sober for the next one, please,” Yamaguchi hiccups. He pays his share and slides out of the booth holding tight to Tsukishima’s arm. “T’was great.” 

They shimmy out of the still-packed bar. Navy blue has shifted into jet black, though Kageyama can spy some stars twinkling in the distance. Yachi, Tsukishima and Yamaguchi’s hotel is in the opposite direction, so they say their goodbyes in the entrance and part ways soon after. Hinata goes back to his eerily silent demeanor, but through a weird, unspoken agreement they start walking together to their destination. Side by side yet so far apart. 

The chill has settled into a near bone-rattling cold, but these kinds of temperatures have never bothered Kageyama. For what it’s worth, his heart is beating so fast he’s surprised he hasn’t had a stroke by now. Hinata walks freely, whistling a tune that reminds him of fireworks and carnivals. So close yet so far apart. Most local businesses are already closed, so the streets are empty and quiet, and they encounter no one on their way back to the hotel. 

Kageyama wills time to stop, to slow down. He sees it, now. This sunshine boy forever stuck in his mind from their very first meeting. The stretch of his arm as he’s about to spike, the length of his run before going to block, the analyzing tilt of his mouth in the face of an opponent—but also the twinkle in his eyes when he beats Kageyama to the gym, the wrinkle in his nose when the vending machine is out of orange juice, the anxious tap of his fingers before an English test. And everything in between, too. Everything he’s missed from their time apart. 

_ Were they so far apart? _

He realizes he’s come to a halt when he feels Hinata’s index poking his stomach. “Kageyama?” He asks. “Is everything okay? Do you need to go to the bathroom? I won’t judge, I promise.”

His hand hovers alarmingly close—so close he can’t tell if he’s imagining the trembling, the heat. And maybe he has indeed been shoving this down for far too long, or ignoring it; he doesn’t know—or care—at this point. Hinata stands waiting for an answer, and Kageyama just thinks  _ fuck it _ , before grabbing his hand and continuing the walk to the hotel decidedly not staring at him, cheeks flaming, mind racing a million miles per hour. 

So he walks, gripping Hinata’s hand tightly in his, making sure to stare ahead and not trip on the way to the hotel, and he makes it perhaps ten steps before Hinata bursts out laughing. He doesn’t let go, though, and only tugs him closer as he wipes tears from his eyes with his free hand. 

“Well,” He wheezes. “This is not what I expected, but—” He takes a deep breath and laces his fingers through Kageyama’s, and  _ oh _ , he rests his head on Kageyama’s chest for just a second before looking up with eyes so bright they could give the stars a run for their money. 

“ _ What? _ ” Kageyama’s mouth hangs open. The feel of Hinata’s fingers against his is dizzying—warm and soft, too, but the reality of his actions somehow being requited is still too hard to process. “What do you mean, not what you expected? I—”

“I  _ mean _ ,” Hinata interrupts him. He only needs to stand on his tiptoes to reach him now, where years ago he would’ve had to jump. He bumps his forehead with Kageyama’s and  _ stays _ , eyes closed in complete trust, and it takes all of Kageyama’s willpower not to screech out loud and puke his hammering heart. “That I’ve been trying to  _ flirt _ with you this entire night and your brick head doesn’t get it.” 

“Flirt?” His heart stops, yup. He takes a step back, but Hinata is quick to haul him closer again. So this is the  _ moment _ , and he’s definitely not letting go. “You—barely talked to me the whole night, you dumbass!” 

“Well—it was a night with our friends! I didn’t want to make it weird!” He whisper-yells, and being so close, Kageyama can tell Hinata’s heart is beating nonstop, too. “Plus, you wouldn’t recognize flirting if it dared you to a race!” 

_ Huh? _ That was—how they usually went about their days. Silly competitions. Silly and huge at the same time, as if their lives were at stake. A rush of adrenaline, but also…  _ Wow.  _ Kageyama opens his mouth to speak, but the words aren’t filtering through his mushy brain. Hinata isn’t making things better by staring at him with his unblikimg, big, dumb eyes, pouting and red all over, from the tip of his nose to his ears. 

“Since when?” Kageyama manages to say. His gaze drops the line of freckles dotting the bridge of Hinata’s nose, skin still a warm brown from his time in Brazil. 

“Highschool,” He admits. “You were  _ so _ cool, and hot, and talented. But also my rival, so. I had to hate you a little bit. Wanted to, anyways,” Hinata grips his hand tighter. “And I couldn’t. I was just—it was so great, being with you, both in and off the court. Now I realize it was silly to never ask you out. And now we’re here.” 

Not the most romantic place he’d ever imagine himself confessing to his—now obvious—highschool crush, but it seems to be doing the trick. 

“That’s—cool. Neat,” Kageyama manages to choke out. The mind that was racing a couple of minutes ago is now silent, filled only with images of an orange headed boy daring him to every competition imaginable.  _ Oblivious idiots _ , Tsukishima had called them. 

“I basically just told you that I’ve been pining for you for, what? Six years? And that’s  _ all _ you have to say?” 

“What do you want me to say?” Kageyama shrieks.  _ There is so much I want to say _ . But he can’t, because his throat is closed up and he can only think about the feel of Hinata’s skin, of the calluses on his fingertips, of his breath on his neck. It’s a little too much. “That I’ve been pining for your idiotic ass too? Because I  _ have _ , and I’ve only just realized it, so excuse me for—”

“Oh my god. Come here.” 

And then Hinata’s kissing him, lips soft and pliant over his; the barest brush of skin before he’s pulling apart, except this time Kageyama  _ knows _ what to do and doesn’t let him go. He wraps an arm around his waist and raises the other one to the nape of his neck, fingers brushing over his orange curls, and when their lips meet again it’s a feeling so big it has no name, or maybe it does but Kageyama can’t quite place it; a mix of hot lava and chilling breeze. It’s perfect. Hinata nips his lower lip and it sends a jolt down his spine. Everything melts around him until it’s just  _ them _ , with Hinata’s hands clutching tightly at the collar of his shirt, and  _ yeah _ , Kageyama has zero kissing experience, but this? It feels  _ right _ . 

They pull apart way too soon for Kageyama’s liking, but it’s worth it. The look on Hinata’s face is unparalleled; a sort of surprise morphing into fondness, and Kageyama feels like a complete idiot for not realizing before that he was completely, utterly in love. Hinata brushes his nose against his, warmth spreading through his body, and  _ yeah _ , he’s exactly where he belongs. 

They spend the rest of the walk holding hands, Hinata giggling like a little kid and Kageyama staring dumbfoundedly at their joined hands. He can’t even feel the night chill anymore, still warm and tingly from the kiss. Once they reach the hotel, remembering a teeny little detail, Kageyama stops them in front of the entrance. 

“Yamaguchi said, back at the bar—” He says, thinking. “There was a  _ bet _ ?” 

“Apparently,” Hinata muses, and begins to drag Kageyama inside the lobby. He’s so much stronger now, all toned muscles and  _ whoops _ , that’s territory for another day. A sober one, hopefully. “Don’t care, really. Unless we can cash on it,” He wiggles his eyebrows, but a yawn takes over. “Let’s just go to bed now, I’m exhausted.” 

He drags them to the elevator and presses the button for the seventh floor. Kageyama doesn’t even register what’s happening until they’re standing in front of the door, Hinata already sliding the key into place. The room is almost exactly like Kageyama’s, with a slightly different placement and a bigger TV. The air conditioner is on. 

Hinata takes his shirt off and flops on the bed without a second thought, wiggling inside the covers and patting the spot beside him for Kageyama to occupy. 

“What?” He asks. “I’m sleepy, it’s too cold out there and you’re practically a furnace. Now stop being an idiot and come here.”

And how could Kageyama say no? He shakes his head, blushing, a smile weaving its way into his features, and lays down next to him under the covers. Hinata immediately nestles into the crook of his neck, and falls asleep impossibly fast, but it’s okay. It’s  _ perfect _ .

A perfect beginning, for a perfect ending. 

**Author's Note:**

> i'd love to hear your thoughts on this! 
> 
> follow me for more dumb gay content on twt @catrvdoras


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